


Time Outs

by ChloeWeird



Series: Timing is Everything [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aging, Babies, Blood Drinking, But it's cute!, Cats, Domestic, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Loss of a pet, M/M, Older Derek Hale, Older Stiles Stilinski, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Outsider, Parent Derek, Parent Stiles, Slice of Life, but it gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWeird/pseuds/ChloeWeird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1k-2k ficlets set in the "Timing is Everything" Universe. May be updated if I get inspired, but I'll mark it complete for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mealtimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teddy: 5  
> Twins: 4 months
> 
> In this chapter: Blood drinking. (The dragon babies, not Stiles or Derek.)

They were probably crazy for thinking they should bring the twins to Teddy’s school fair. It was a huge event, and it sprawled through most of the classrooms, the entire gymnasium and the length of the sports field. It would take them hours to get through it all, even with Ted dragging them from place to place impatiently. 

But they hadn’t been to that many public places as the whole family, and he loved the looks they got when strangers saw their frighteningly well-behaved 5 year old and unbelievably pretty twin girls.

It was a bit like having a superpower. _Who demolishes spit-up in a single wipe? Who makes faces so entertaining that he fights off the dreaded fussiness in under a minute? Who slays all the PTA parents with not one, but two adorable babies? It’s Dad Man!_

So Derek and Stiles each strapped a baby to their chests and stuffed the stroller full of everything they could possibly need for a five hour stroll through the bake sale on crack, plus a lot more than they would ever need in a hundred years, but what if? Stiles was pretty sure the bottom of the stroller was some sort of interdimensional storage vortex, because there was no other plausible reason for the amount of stuff they managed to cram in there.

Everything was going pretty great until an hour and a half in, when Chariot started making the noise she always made when she was getting ready to be hungry. They usually had about 15 minutes until Cypress started doing the same thing, then 15 minutes after that, they’d both be pissed off and crying for a bottle.

“Derek, I’m gonna go feed the monster,” he said, and Derek raised an eyebrow. It was one thing to joke about that at home, but Stiles wondered for a second if he should be holding himself back in public. For about a second. Then he decided he didn’t care. 

Derek was perfectly capable of supervising Teddy on the indoor climbing wall and watching the stroller at the same time, (Cy was less of a concern, seeing as how she was literally attached to him) so Stiles just grabbed the diaper bag and left him to it. 

When they’d packed the “formula” that morning, Stiles had been positive that in a large school with lots of bathrooms, empty classrooms and secluded benches, he’d have no problem finding a private place to feed the girls. 

He was so wrong. 

People and kids were everywhere. Almost every classroom had some display in it, or else an excited kid showing off their desk. The line for the bathroom stretched down the hall, and while Chariot wasn’t a picky eater, even she would be put off by the state of the stalls. He’d thought the gym was crowded, but it was nothing compared to the outside. The nice weather was great for the school’s event but bad for Stiles, who’d walked the entire perimeter of the field, and hadn’t yet found a place where he could A) Sit. B) Do the finger pricky-thing in the most sterile way possible. And C) Feed his daughter her admittedly noxious looking, but incredibly necessary food. 

It’d taken a bit of getting used to. The complicated mix of herbs Deaton had made for them was fine, and even smelled kind of good, once he got over the tickle that lodged in his nose every single time he opened the jar. The weird bit was that the herbs had to be activated and supplemented by a couple drops of fresh blood. Werewolf, human, other, it didn’t matter, as long as it was under an hour old. It got stirred into a bit of water and voila: Instant blood cocktail for dragon babies.

They handled it, but it made mealtimes in public a little more complicated than sticking some formula into their mouths. They had opaque bottles, but if anyone saw him putting blood in his daughter’s food, they would think he was completely insane. Thus, his search continued. 

He was on his second lap of the field, and just about to give up and take the 15 minute walk home (the car would have worked perfectly, damn it) when he took a closer look at the student garden. The plots themselves were crawling with impressed parents, but poking out from behind the trellis of lackluster green beans was a bench, half of which couldn’t be seen by passersby. He switched directions and headed for it, and when he rounded the corner, he saw that it was empty. He bumped fists with Chariot in celebration and hurried over, scrambling to unpack the bottle and get the unsavoury part done as soon as possible. 

He hadn’t even finished unzipping the bag when someone sat down on the bench next to him. 

He deflated, berating himself internally for not putting the bag on the bench right away. He hated to be that guy, but Chariot was starting to fuss, and Derek had to be wondering where he was, so he opened his mouth and turned to ask the other person for some privacy. 

It was a woman. Breastfeeding. 

_Darn it_ , he thought to Chariot, making a squishy annoyed face at her in the hope that it would derail her growing displeasure. (He was trying to get in the habit of not swearing, even if it was only in his head.) There was being that guy, then there was being _that guy_. And _that_ was not the kind of guy he wanted to be. 

Mournfully, he zipped up the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stood up, already dreading the search for another one. Maybe he could just sit against the wall near the dumpsters? That didn’t seem fair to Charry...

“She’s gotta have quiet time, right?” 

“Huh?” Stiles said, intelligently. 

It was the woman who’d poached his bench and she was looking sympathetically at him. “Sorry, I just saw you walking around earlier, and I think I understand. My first wouldn’t drink a drop if I wasn’t lying on my back with my shirt off. So I know how finicky babies can be about mealtimes.”

“Ha, yeah, you guessed it,” he said, weakly, and wondered if it would be rude to just back away out of this conversation. Chariot’s complaints were picking up in frequency and volume, and if he didn’t find some place quick, the whole place would find out how vocal she could be. “I’d better go--”

“Try the hall outside the library, on the West side of the building. There’s an equipment room that doesn’t get used now because the lock is broken. That’s where I used to go, and I’m pretty sure no one’s bothered to fix it.” 

“Oh my god, _thank you._ ” Stiles could have hugged her, but that would probably be awkward, considering the babies attached to their chests. 

“No problem. Thanks for the bench.” She hauled her own diaper bag onto the seat Stiles had just vacated and made herself comfortable. Stiles made a beeline for the library, texting Derek on the way. 

_How long did Deaton say we had to keep the girls on this stuff?_

**3 more months. Why? What did you do?**

_Why do you assume I’ve done something?_

Derek just sent him a dragon emoji. 

“Okay, that’s fair,” he said to Chariot. She just bopped his nose. He thought that was pretty fair too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know in the comments if you have an idea of what I should write!


	2. New Family Members

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teddy: 6  
> Twins: 12 months
> 
> In this chapter: Brief animal endangerment, but nothing serious and no person or animal is hurt.

“Everything is fine.” 

“Stiles, that is literally the worst thing you could have told me in order to not get me to freak out. Has something happened?” 

“Kinda. Yes.” Stiles pushed the phone a little farther away from him on the bed, hoping that Derek could still hear him. If he hadn’t moved it, he would have kneeled on it when he leaned over to stop Cypress from crawling away. 

“Is it ‘kinda’ or is it ‘yes?’” Derek said, and Stiles could picture what he must look like on the other end of the line. Jaw working, one hand flexing at his side, the other consciously gentle on the phone so he didn’t break it mid-conversation.

Stiles sighed. Chariot took his momentary distraction as an opportunity to wriggle away, freeing the one arm he’d managed to stuff into her onesie. He sighed again, pulled her back next to her sister and started all over again with the other arm. 

“Okay,” he told Derek, because multi-tasking was his jam. “Something did happen, but it wasn’t a big deal, and I don’t want you to worry and come home early, alright? We’re fine.” 

“Tell me what happened, then I’ll decide for myself.”

**

They really had been fine for the last day and a half that Derek had been in Nevada networking with Scott. Teddy was at school on time, the house wasn’t a complete disaster, and Stiles wasn’t getting cabin fever. 

Then, Stiles had the bright idea to stop at the pet supply store for Eddie’s grain-free, chicken-free, holistic health food on the way home from school. Teddy loved to look at the fish and the plushy dog toys, the girls loved to go anywhere people would look at them and coo, and Eddie was quivering in excitement at the prospect of a dry, stale biscuit from behind the counter. Oh boy. 

Their little group was a bit of a spectacle, with the double stroller, big dog, and excitable kid and adult. They made slow progress up each and every aisle, even though they only needed one thing. It wasn’t like they were in a hurry. Stiles had broken out the snacks on the way there, since he was no dummy. 

When they finally got to the check out, they were delayed yet again by a display of crinkly cat toys that the twins would absolutely not hear of passing by until they felt each and every variety. While they touched all the cotton and feather and string, Stiles became aware of Teddy’s absence, as well as an odd noise. Teddy was found quickly, by looking over to a black kennel next to the cash register, but the source of the sound proved more elusive.

“What is that?” He wondered aloud. It was like a softly rumbling engine, but also like a wheezing asthma attack. 

“It’s a cat,” Teddy answered, pointing to the depths of the cage.

“Nuh-uh. No way. I’ve heard purring. _That_ is not purring.” 

“It is! Look!”

Stiles rolled the stroller a couple feet closer to the counter, put the brakes on, then bent next to Teddy to peer inside. At the very back, in the darkest corner, a little puddle of black lifted its head and blinked narrow yellow-green eyes at them. 

“He’s up for adoption, you know,” the cashier said from above them. 

“Oh, yeah? How much?”

“$150. That just covers his shots and the neutering. He wasn’t doing great in a place with a lot of other cats, so we’re fostering him for the local shelter.” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Is he aggressive?” She certainly wasn’t giving him the best sell job. 

“Nah, he’s just got chronic respiratory issues. He constantly has a cold, essentially. Other than that he’s perfectly healthy. Friendly, too.”

While the cashier talked about the cat’s various qualities and recommendations, the cat stretched and padded forward to the edge of the cage. He peered up through the bars and Stiles finally got a good look at him. 

[He was ugly.](http://chloeweird.tumblr.com/post/141374891137/kevin-the-cat-he-really-is-gross-and-weird-but-in) It might not have been a kind thing to think, but it was the truth. The cat was black, with a couple of white hairs on his chest. He was slight, either not fully grown or simply on the small side. Those characteristics were fine. The problem was with his face. It wasn’t flat like a persian cat, but the nose was a little turned up, like it was squished at birth. It was also leaking noxious green snot. His eyes looked a little swollen, and were covered in goopy discharge, like the worst sleep dust in existence. It looked blearily up at him, turning its head this way and that as if to see past eyes that were glued mostly shut. 

“You’re sure this cat isn’t dying?” Stiles asked, skeptically.

“No, he just always looks that way. They’ve put him on every antibiotic and cream under the sun, and it works for a while, then he just goes back to looking like that.”

“Huh.” Stiles poked his finger through the bars. The cat reared back a bit, surprised, then lurched forward, rubbing his weird, crusty cheek against Stiles’ finger so hard his teeth were bared in a grimace of a smile. 

Stiles fell in love with that nasty pirate face in the space between two of the cat’s wheezing, sickly breaths. 

“I’ll take him.” 

**

It was a little difficult getting the cat home. They had to put Eddie’s food back on the shelf, which Ed was pretty heartbroken about, up until the moment the cat was let out of the cage and it sidled right up to Eddie, rubbing his face all over his collar and furry chest. Ed spent a couple of minutes tilting his head, but after that, he seemed to fall just as hard for Kevin the Cat as Stiles had. 

Teddy came up with the name. “Like the bird in _Up_!” Stiles loved it, but pretty much anything would have been better than Blacky, the name the shelter had given him. Seriously. 

They loaded up all the supplies they’d immediately need into the stroller, with the promise that they’d be back soon for the less urgent, but still necessary items. (Chariot and Cypress were going to be thrilled when Stiles brought some of the sparkly cat toys home.)

Stiles had to balance the cat carrier against the top of the stroller for the whole 15 minute walk home, but he didn’t mind. Kevin was pretty calm on the journey, making only a couple of squeaking noises at the beginning.

Of course, that could have been because he couldn’t physically meow anymore. According to the history provided by the shelter, he’d had such bad laryngitis when he’d been living on the streets that he could only manage one true meow, then he’d either squeak or use this adorable soft chirping noise. Or, sometimes, he’d just open his mouth and nothing would come out. Not a sound. Stiles could not get over how broken and beautiful this cat was.

Kevin ran off and hid the moment he was set free from the carrier. Stiles wasn’t worried, since the cashier had warned him he might do that. Also, it gave him some time to get the kids settled in the living room and set up Kevin’s food, water and litter stations. 

In retrospect, it might have been a good idea to introduce the girls to Kevin gradually, from a distance. But when Kevin came out of the closet on his own and padded over to the blanket where they were playing with blocks, Stiles just held his breath and waited for them to bond. The girls were gentle, and gave Kevin a few pats, then grinned happily when he butted his head up against their hands for more. Stiles and Teddy were watching closely, and the girls were sitting mostly still. What could go wrong?

Fire. That was what went wrong. 

Kevin made a sniffly sound, then suddenly erupted in the biggest sneeze Stiles had ever heard come out of an animal. (Barring that one video with the sneezing panda that always made him laugh.) Cypress and Chariot were both so surprised and delighted that they shrieked, and twin (Ha.) fireballs escaped their mouths, barely missing Kevin as he skittered out of their path. The flames fell to the fleece blanket and started eating through it. 

Life with two infant dragons meant that he always had a fire extinguisher handy. In every room. Sometimes two. Stiles grabbed the nearest one and pulled the trigger, putting out the small fires before they spread more than a couple of inches each. When he was finished stomping on the blanket and the carpet underneath to make sure they were absolutely cold, he dropped to his knees and pulled the girls into his lap.

They were squealing with glee, clapping their hands at the spectacle. 

“Jesus,” he breathed, “You two will be the death of me, I swear.” 

“Fah, fah, fah!” They said. 

“Yes, fire. No fire in the house, remember?” 

“Fah!” said Cypress.

“Why do I even bother?” He asked Chariot. She just grinned, showing off her pointy teeth and flashing her eyes from brown to red. “You’re both incorrigible, you know that?”

They knew. They clapped their hands again, and Stiles groaned at the mess of white that covered them all. It was bathtime, for sure. 

Stiles sat them back on the ruined blanket and stood up, calling, “Teddy, you can come in now. You okay, buddy?”

“Yep!” Teddy came running in, Eddie close behind. “That was a close one, Dad.”

“You’re telling me.” Stiles kissed the top of his head and gave him a high five. “Great procedure following, Mr. T.” 

( _“What do we do when your sisters set something on fire?” “Get outside immediately, bring the dog with me. Don’t worry about the girls, because they’re fireproof.” “That’s my boy.”_ )

“Thanks. Is it bathtime?”

“Yeah, for your sisters, anyway. Are you okay out here? Do you want me to put a movie on?”

“How about _Up_?”

“Perfect.” 

**

Stiles finished doing up the last snap on Cypress’ onesie just as he finished the story. They’d tuckered themselves out trying to wiggle away from clothes, so their eyes were blinking slower and slower as Stiles waited in silence for Derek to respond. He’d put both of the twins in the bed and turned on the mobile when Derek finally spoke, calmly and quietly. 

“We have a cat now.”

“Yes.” Stiles flicked off the overhead light and shut the door behind him, heading for the living room. 

“I need to pick up another fire extinguisher on the way home.” 

“Yep. And maybe a new fuzzy blanket for the living room. The one we had is toast.” 

“Did you just--”

Stiles froze on the stairs. “Nope.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Definitely. This one was completely unintentional, and I’m ashamed of you for even recognizing its potential.” 

Derek sighed, and it fizzed down the line into Stiles’ ear. “Alright, then. I’ll be home in an hour or so. Scott wanted to get back to Kira and the kids, so I was on my way home anyway. I’ll see you then.” 

Stiles was so stunned he almost didn’t stop Derek in time. “Wait. Aren’t you mad at me?”

“To be honest? I was expecting worse, so I’m having trouble getting angry. I just want to see you and, apparently, meet our new family member.”

Stiles grinned and did a little happy dance on the stairs. “You’ll love him, Derek. He looks grouchy all the time, it’s just how his face looks. You’re soulmates.” 

“Bye, Stiles.”

They both hung up and Stiles went down the rest of the stairs and into the living room. The credits were rolling on the movie, but Teddy was still on the couch. It took a second for Stiles to figure out why, but it quickly became clear that Teddy was stuck on his back, his arms stiff at his sides while Kevin the Cat purred like a lawnmower on his chest. 

“You know, you don’t have to stay there,” Stiles said, containing his mirth at Teddy’s serious face. “You can push him off.” 

“I don’t mind.” Teddy looked like he would shrug if he wasn’t sure it would dislodge his new companion. 

“Here, let me help.” Stiles plucked Kevin off Ted’s chest, unpinning the claws from his T-shirt and putting the cat down on the floor. “There. Go let the dog out and brush your teeth. I’ll be there in a minute to read you a story. Dad might be home before you go to sleep.” 

Teddy ran off, and Stiles took a moment to sit heavily on the couch and breathe. The baby monitor was on, and he could hear the girls chattering to each other in bed, so he closed his eyes and enjoyed the few seconds of peace he had before he’d start another nightly routine, then go to bed himself. 

30 seconds after he closed his eyes, he opened them again. He could swear he felt someone’s gaze on him, and the back of his neck prickled with awareness. He cast a quick glance around and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Kevin sitting at the other end of the couch, staring at him. Well, glaring was more accurate, but that might have just been a side effect of Kevin’s squinty eyes. 

Neither of them moved for a minute. They stayed on opposite ends of the couch and regarded each other, Kevin warily, Stiles hopefully. The cat didn’t look singed at all, which gave Stiles the courage to start the conversation. 

“Look, buddy. I'm sorry. And the girls are probably sorry. You just got off to a bad start. Maybe if your sneezes weren't so damn cute...” He stopped, shook his head. “No, I know, I know, that's victim blaming. Sorry. Again.”

Kevin sniffed, then blinked, but didn’t come any closer. 

“Just give 'em a chance. Okay? And me. Give me a chance.”

Stiles extended his finger, like he’d done at the pet supply store, and after a long pause, Kevin smeared his face all over it, just like he had before. Stiles smiled and coaxed Kevin closer, using pets and scratches to lure Kevin all the way over until he was sitting on Stiles’ chest. Kevin was an aggressive snuggler. He thumped into the side of Stiles’ face with way more force than he would have expected from a 10 pound cat.

“Whoa, buddy, calm down. We’ve got a lot of time to get to know each other, no need to go so fast.” 

_Prrt_ , said Kevin, then he sneezed explosively, flinging snot all over Stiles’ sweater.

Stiles looked down at the gooey splatter, his nose wrinkling. “Dude. Gross.” 

Kevin just purred.


	3. Terrible Twos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teddy: 7  
> Twins: 2
> 
> In this chapter: Outsider POV

Teddy looked down at the gift in his hands, trying to smile like his daddy told him to. 

( _“Now, Teddy Bear, when the emissary from the Burke pack comes to visit, he’ll probably give you a gift,” Daddy said, his eyebrows scrunched like caterpillars, but not in a grouchy way. Just a Daddy way._

_“Why?”_

_“Because they want to make a good impression. They’ll give one to your cousins and your sisters, too.”_

_“Okay. Do I get to keep it?”_

_“Sure, if you’d like to. But it’s very important that you smile and say thank you, even if you don’t like it.”_

_“Why? Isn’t that lying?”_

_“Because the man’s feelings might be hurt if you don’t. If you just say thank you and don’t say that you like it, that’s not lying, that’s just being polite.”_

_“Like in Bambi.”_

_“Yes. If you don’t have anything nice to say…”_

_“Don’t say anything at all. I got it.”_

_“Good boy.”_ )

He just had a birthday, so he had lots of toys, but he was also kinda hoping he would get another new toy that he wanted to play with. Instead, the man--Teddy couldn’t remember his name--had handed him a small, plastic toy fishing rod with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on it. 

“There you go, little guy,” the man said, smiling with a lot of white teeth. “Now your dad can take you fishing. All boys love fishing with their old man.”

It wasn’t that Teddy disliked the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They were okay, and watching the movie with his dad shouting at it the whole way through was funny. And he definitely liked fishing. His Grandpa took him out to the lake in the preserve every other weekend, and it was really fun. 

It was that this fishing rod was nothing like the one his Grandpa had bought him for his birthday, the Zebco 33 with an aluminum spool and bite alert. (Teddy didn’t know what any of those meant yet, but Grandpa said he’d learn. He’d tried asking his dads, but they’d just stared at him looking a little scared, so he didn’t try again. He already knew how to bait on a hook and turn the wheely thing, so he thought he was doing pretty good.) 

“Thank you,” he said, anyway. He hoped his smile was a nice one, not like the one Derek Daddy used that Stiles Daddy said looked like he wanted to murder someone. (Teddy was almost positive neither of his daddies would kill anyone, but if they did, it would be for a very good reason.)

“And you must be the pretty girls I’ve heard so much about,” the man said, making his voice higher. He leaned over, hands on his knees, and he smiled even bigger for them than he had for Teddy. Then, he took something out of the same bag he’d brought the fishing rod in. “Look what I brought. It’s a doll.”

The girls didn’t smile. They probably hadn’t listened as well to their dad’s request, so they just sat on the couch and looked at the doll, their lips pursed in that way they did when they meant to say, “Duh,” but didn’t want to talk to anyone but each other. 

“But I only have one, so you’ll have to share, okay, sweethearts? So, who wants it first, huh? Do you?” The man moved the doll closer to Chariot, then chuckled, and moved it closer to Cypress. “Or maybe you?”

The twins’ eyes locked on the doll’s curly red hair as it moved between the two of them. Teddy could see they were suddenly way more interested than they had been before, since none of their dolls had hair like that, like Ariel from The Little Mermaid. Their hands reached out at the same time and they each grabbed an end of the doll.

“Whoa, strong grip you ladies have. Hey, maybe we can split it down the middle and you can share it.” Then he laughed, like he’d told a really funny joke, but Teddy didn’t get it. His sisters shared everything, and they didn’t normally have to cut things in half.

“Who does he think he is, King Solomon?” Derek Daddy said from Scott and Kira’s kitchen, then Stiles Daddy shushed him, even though the man was a human and couldn’t hear. (Stiles Daddy was also giggling as he shushed, so Teddy didn’t think he really meant it.)

Teddy loved his sisters. He was a good big brother, and he looked after them really well whenever his dads left him in charge for a few minutes, like now. He also knew them really well, so he knew that when they tilted their heads like that, it was never a good sign. 

**

Hugh wasn’t great with kids. It wasn’t that he was completely incompetent, he just didn’t know many. The pack he was affiliated with had a lot of young folks who would probably pair off and settle down soon, so he figured, while he was here, he’d better get some practice with rugrats. 

He almost put it off. He was tired from being on the road and negotiating with McCall all day, but this would probably be his only opportunity to interact with them before he was finishing up with the agreements. _All this for a patch of grass,_ Hugh mourned. Though, it wasn’t an ordinary patch of grass. If it was, he wouldn’t have had to come all the way from Reno to collect it from Beacon Hills’ abundant supply. That’s what he got for living in a desert, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

He hadn’t even picked out the toys. Alpha Burke had second cousins who were around the same age as these kids, so she’d sent away for them on Amazon, and voila: gifts.

It wasn’t his fault if the kids didn’t seem to like them. The boy had tried, had even thanked him politely, but it was clear he was disappointed. Hugh didn’t really know what to say, so he’d just let it go, but he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit miffed. Didn’t little boys like the Ninja Turtles? Even if he didn’t like fishing, surely he could appreciate the brand. 

He’d been expecting to have better luck with the girls. Dolls were a pretty safe bet, he thought. They hadn’t looked impressed either. At least, at first. Now, they seemed to have changed their minds. 

_Now’s your moment, Hugh_ , he thought. _Entertain the urchins, it can’t be that difficult._

He tugged the doll out of the twins’ grip--No easy feat, since they had some serious muscle--and their eyes followed it as he put it behind his back. 

“Whoops, where’d it go?” They still didn’t give much of a reaction. They simply sat on the couch, a perfect mirror image of each other, and frowned. He brought the doll back around. “There it is!” 

That finally prompted some small smiles. _Nice, Hugh, you got this_. He made the doll vanish again, made a surprised face, and smothered a grin at the quick disappearance of the smiles. The rush of power was surprisingly intense.

“Um,” said the older kid, Kyle or something, he thought. Maybe. There were a lot of kids in this pack. 

“Hmm?” Hugh didn’t pay him much attention. He was too busy juggling the doll from hand to hand, just barely avoiding the twins’ grasping hands.

“You probably shouldn’t do that.” 

“Why not? They’re enjoying it, see?” The toddlers’ eyes were wide, and actually looked way brighter than they had before. He’d thought their eyes were brown, but they didn’t really look brown anymore. Probably a trick of the light. 

The kid looked dubious. “I don’t really think they are.” 

“Oh, come on, kid. Don’t be such a spoilsport.” Feeling confident, Hugh held the doll high, then dropped it a little, catching it before it got within grabbing distance of the twins. “They love it--Augh!”

In a split second, the girls pretty, chubby faces had gone from completely normal to scary, pointy and toothy. Their hands, now tipped with long curved claws, snatched the doll almost faster than he could see it, while they growled at a sub-vocal pitch. 

“Jesus Christ!” Hugh yelled, jerking backwards and tripping over his own feet. He fell to the floor, but kept crab-walking away as soon as he got his legs underneath him. “What the hell was that?”

“Dragons. That’s what they do,” said Kyle. Or whatever. “I told you they didn’t like it.”

“Jesus,” he said again, his heart pounding as he eyed the girls, who’d gone back to normal and were petting the doll’s hair, completely ignoring them. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“Ready to head out, Hugh?” Stiles said from the doorway, making him jump. “Now’s probably a good time for the harvest.” 

“Uh,” Hugh swallowed hard, trying to get his pulse under control. “Sure. Let’s go.” 

While Hugh scrambled to his feet, Stiles walked over to the couch, kissing the twins on their heads and remarking, “Oh, look. You got a new doll, isn’t that nice. Girls, did you say thank you?” 

They just smiled. Creepy, identical twin smiles. 

Hugh very much wanted to be back in Reno. Or anywhere. Maybe he should consider relocating. Kids were a lot harder--and more terrifying--than he’d thought.


	4. Mawwage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek finally tie the knot. 
> 
> Teddy: 9  
> Twins: 4

Stiles kicked back in his office chair and stared at the mural on the ceiling of the library. This was something he did a lot on slow days like this one. Since there was so much going on in the painting, he found something new every time. 

On the surface, it was a pretty straightforward scene of some angels frolicking in fluffy clouds, but upon closer inspection, the clothes were all wrong. Where one would expect flowing white drapery to match the faux-renaissance style, all the visible clothing had subtle patterns of paisley, polka-dot and plaid, among others, in a rainbow of pastel tackiness. 

And if someone were to take a closer look at the cupids peeking adorably through the cotton candy clouds, they would notice that they weren’t babies, but household pets, depicted with flesh-coloured fur, which made them all the more disturbing. (Stiles’ favourites were the pair of guinea pigs sharing a divine lettuce leaf in the far right corner.)

Needless to say, Stiles loved it. He’d tried to look up the artist’s name, but the mural was 40 years old, and the artist had only been identified on the library’s records as Mr. D. Smith, so Stiles hadn’t been able to find anything about them, even in the depths of the library’s archives and the fifth page of Google. It was definitely a shame, since Stiles would purchase a portrait of Eddie and Kevin dressed up as 70s-inspired cupids in a hot second. 

Stiles was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of someone humming nearby. He didn’t tilt his chair back upright, but he looked over the reference desk and spotted Valerie, the second-newest hire, bopping along to her own tune as she shelved a bunch of romance novels. He recognized the tune, though it took a while for him to parse it out. 

Bruno Mars. [_Marry You._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zlv1rdcpS9M)

“You have a good weekend, Val?” Stiles said, smirking when she turned around quickly, startled out of her own little world of future marital bliss. 

She smiled widely and put down the paperbacks she was holding and came over to show him the ring. “The best.”

Stiles whistled as he tilted her hand this way and that. The centre stone was heart-shaped, with small pink gemstones around it. It was sparkly, cute and unabashedly hopeful. Very much like Valerie herself. 

“Congrats. I’m so happy for for you,” Stiles said, and he meant it. Stiles saw firsthand how stupidly adorable she and her fiancé were at the last two Christmas parties, and he really thought those two crazy kids would make it, despite neither of them having hit 25 yet. 

“We think we’re going to have the wedding next fall,” she said, with a dreamy, faraway expression. “Give ourselves lots of time to plan the perfect day. Do you have any tips? Everyone’s been so helpful, and I’m writing everything down.”

“Tips on what? Wedding planning?” She nodded. “Well, no, since I’ve never had one.” 

She blinked. “Oh. Did you go to the county office then? Actually, I meant to look it up, did they let you have champagne in there?” 

“Uh, actually, I’m not married.” 

Valerie gasped, and covered her mouth with her hands. The ring twinkled incongruously. “Gosh, I’m so sorry, I just assumed you and Derek…”

“Don’t worry about it, honestly. Derek and I are in it for the long haul, obviously, so I can see how you’d think that.”

“Oh, good.” She let out a relieved breath, then they lapsed into a companionable silence while Valerie went back to her romance novels and Stiles went back to avoiding calling the list of people with outstanding fines by counting all of the faces hidden in the clouds in the mural above him. There were a lot. He hadn’t ever successfully tallied them up without losing count near the end. 

“Why haven’t you guys ever gotten hitched? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

This time it was Valerie who startled Stiles. He nearly tipped out of his chair, but he managed to save it just in time and right himself. Valerie was leaning casually against the shelf, worrying the engagement ring and obviously trying not to laugh at his near-floor experience. 

“Well, I,” he stammered. “We, uh.” 

Sure. They’d thought about it a few times in that way that people did when they knew they probably should do something, but also knew it wasn’t likely to get done quickly, so it got pushed further and further down the list, along with annual check ups and cleaning out the shed. 

The kids were all “Stilinski-Hale” on their birth certificates, and Derek and Stiles’ names were both on them, so it wasn’t like taking each other’s names was an issue. Derek had crazy tax requirements he and his accountant had to jump through every year, between Derek’s small business and his family’s estates, so getting hitched would make it much easier in that regard. 

They’d fit so well into the roles of “mate” and “co-parent” that “husband” hadn’t been a title either of them had craved. 

But, should they have? Was it weird that they’d never felt the need to stand up in front of their friends and family in suits and put to paper a bond everyone already knew was unbreakable? Now that he thought about it, he realized that it had been shoved into the same corner that they’d placed the thought of having kids. It might be nice, but there were more important things to deal with. Fate had brought the kid idea out of the dusty, cobwebby crawlspace, and it had changed their lives in so many amazing ways. 

Should they do the same for the whole marriage concept? 

“Huh,” he said, and Valerie’s smile got wider. 

“I’m going on break,” she said, cheerfully. “Try not to fall into the rabbit hole of wedding planning. It’s a dark and scary place.” 

Stiles watched her pass in front of his desk, then shook himself out of his daze. “Oh, Valerie, I just remembered. They don’t let you have champagne in the county offices.” Or tequila, as Erica had been disappointed to discover when she and Boyd had tied the knot with little fanfare.

“Darn. We wanted to toast right after applying for the license. For the photo op, you know?”

“Yeah. No rule against ginger ale, though.” 

**

“Hey, Derek.” 

“Yeah?” Derek’s response was muffled because his face was currently under the blanket at the level of Stiles’ hips, kissing his way lower and lower. 

“Do you think we should get married?” 

The kissing stopped. Derek lifted the blanket and pushed it back so he could see Stiles’ face, but he didn’t move from between Stiles’ legs. 

“Do you think we should get married?” He said, a little suspiciously, like it was a trick question.

Stiles couldn’t answer right away. He’d never needed to before. Even now, he felt secure in the knowledge that they were the forever type, and a piece of paper wouldn’t change that. But there was a part of him that remembered playing house in kindergarten, and insisting that he and Scott get married first, because that was what they did on TV. It was a rite of passage, like the first date, first kiss, first shared lease. The first time they stood up in front of everyone they cared about and made their union official. 

Stiles sighed, and reached a hand down to card it through Derek’s wild hair. (He needed a cut soon, Stiles noted and hoped he’d remember to check the Google Calendar for the best days when he next saw his phone.) “We’ve done everything backwards, haven’t we? Falling in love before we dated. Skipping the wedding and going straight to the kids and the pets and the white picket fence.” 

“That fence is wrought iron, Stiles, I worked very hard on it.” 

“And it’s a great fence. We’re getting off topic though.”

Derek smirked, and gave a loud, smacking kiss to Stiles’ lower belly. “Oh, are we? And here I thought you were the one who did that.” 

“I’m serious, Derek.” 

Derek sobered, and clambered up beside Stiles, throwing an arm across his chest and burying his face in his neck. 

“Is that something you want?” Derek asked, less carefully this time. 

“I never went in much for symbols,” Stiles said, gliding his palm up and down Derek’s back to focus himself. “Neither did my dad. My mom was always the one for grand gestures. She got my dad a hot air balloon ride for his birthday once. Spent the whole time in the corner of the basket throwing up into a plastic bag.” 

Derek laughed, and his breath tickled Stiles’ neck. “My parents probably would have wanted to make a big deal out of it. Invite everyone they’d ever known.”

“Really?” Stiles was suddenly nervous that he’d entered territory that was still sensitive. Derek could talk about his family, now, after years of not allowing himself the comfort, but some topics were still more tender than others. “Is that what you want to do?”

“No,” Derek shook his head, his stubbled chin scraping Stiles’ shoulder. “Just family and friends.” 

“The pack, essentially.” 

“Yeah. The pack.” 

They lapsed into easy silence while they both came to realize that they’d begun to plan without even meaning to. 

“So,” said Stiles, when the idea sank in and took hold. “Are we going to do it then?” 

“Sure. Let’s get hitched.” 

“Well, sure, that too. But I meant, are we going to _do it_.” Stiles bounced his eyebrows up and down and gave a wiggle of his hips.

“Oh, Stiles. I thought you’d never ask,” Derek said, then he eased his way down to Stiles’ stomach and tossed the blanket back over his head.

**

Stiles and Derek were married on a warm evening the following summer. 

It was muggy and hellishly hot the whole week leading up to it, and while Stiles told himself to stop worrying, and that it wouldn’t ruin anything, he was thrilled and enormously relieved when the humidity broke the day before, and the heat backed off enough that they wouldn’t sweat their suits off. 

Teddy was their best man. He looked so grown up in his button up shirt and slacks, Stiles almost called the whole thing off and bundled him away to his childhood bedroom. His shoulder length hair wasn’t long enough for Stiles to climb up to visit him, but it would be too much work to get rid of the stairs anyway, he teased, and Teddy laughed at him. 

He was tall for a 9 year old, getting closer and closer to the height of Stiles’ chest every day. Sometimes, when the light hit him just right, Stiles could see the shape of the man he’d grow into, once the baby fat melted away, and the stubborn chin and high cheekbones were shown in stark relief. He had a couple more years to commit Teddy’s softness to memory. 

Chariot and Cypress each had one of the rings to take care of until the ceremony. They hadn’t intended to hand them out until right before it started, but it took only a couple of hours for the twins to sniff them out in the drawer in the kitchen, and they were taking such good care of them that neither Stiles nor Derek had the heart to take them back. They understood that the rings needed to be on their fingers on the day of the wedding, but they would keep them with their piles of costume jewelry until then. 

The Sheriff officiated, instead of walking Stiles down the aisle, or some other heteronormative bullcrap. (The Sheriff’s words, not Stiles’.) He practiced his speech in his office whenever he could get a moment, and he could be sure Stiles wouldn’t sneak in and try to hear it. He wanted it to be a surprise to his son and son-in-law, and was willing to go to extreme measures to ensure he was successful. He looked up samples of wedding ceremonies and spent hours reading tips on public speaking, but in the end, he trusted his gut and relied heavily on the snippets of Claudia’s diary she wrote in when she was lucid. Her hopes for her son’s future, and the things she wished she could have lived to see. (If more than one deputy teared up a little bit while accidentally eavesdropping on his practicing, then it was their business.)

Scott was their witness. It felt right for him, as their alpha, to put his mark on the piece of paper that made them as official as they could be. (Teddy put his clumsy signature on the license too, even though it wasn’t strictly necessary.)

It happened in a clearing in the preserve, one where long grass covered the places trees had left alone. Derek, Stiles and the kids walked up the gentle slope to the waiting audience together, abandoning all pretense of a procession by simply holding hands while the girls chased each other and Teddy led the dog on his leash. 

The Sheriff’s speech wasn’t long, nor was it as poetic as some of the templates he’d rejected, but it was far from simple. Stiles hadn’t even promised himself he wouldn’t cry, because he hadn’t been expecting any reason why he _should_ cry, so when he manfully blubbered, he didn’t break any vows. He only made them. 

He vowed to listen when Derek spoke.

He vowed to speak with sincerity when he needed to be heard. 

He vowed to never let the ease of their love make him complacent and forgetful of how special it was, and that it needed nurturing every once in a while. 

Derek accepted all of his promises with dry eyes that instead brimmed with love and memories of the years they’d already spent fulfilling these oaths. He returned them in kind, and added that he’d give of himself, not only in the heady moments that proved that theirs was a romance for the ages, but also in the times that were quiet and frequent, illuminated not by a unique and glorious sunset, but by a fluorescent bulb in their bedside lamp and the blue glow of a computer screen. 

The reception, if they could call it that, was held in their backyard, which Kira had strung with paper lanterns she’d gotten on sale from Bed Bath & Beyond. The rented sound system played pop music, classic wedding dances, and any song Stiles could find that made a reference--however vague--to wolves, claws, fangs or howling. Derek was in too good a mood to mind, which was what Stiles was counting on. 

They danced to _Hungry Eyes, She-Wolf_ and _The Circle of Life_ , their wedding rings solid and settled on their fingers. When Stiles went back to work on Monday, he’d still be the same person, even though he’d have to get his name plate amended. He’d still love Derek the same, still plan on getting old and grey with him--and with the way the girls kept him running, it might happen sooner rather than later. Nothing much will have changed. 

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t smile proudly at Valerie when he showed her his new gold band, or make the light reflect up to the ceiling, dancing it over clouds among frolicking, poorly dressed angels.


	5. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy: 12  
> Twins: 7

There were some days when Stiles wished—just a little bit—that the twins weren’t quite so much like him. Not in the way they looked, since they didn’t look a thing like either of their parents. Their hair was obnoxiously blond, blonder than he would have thought possible outside of models and dolls, while their skin was always tanned a golden brown, like they were perpetually returning from a beach vacation.

He didn’t care much about the lack of likeness. They would have had to dodge invasive questions about their methods of acquiring children regardless of how much they did or didn’t look like them, and he was never looking for a carbon copy of himself.

What they lacked in physical similarity, they made up for in personality. The twins gained Derek’s poker face. Derek’s murderous frown. The tendency to make statements rather than ask questions. But from Stiles, they got their wicked sense of humour. (Including the appreciation of a good pun.) Their chattiness, and lack of social anxiety. The way they could talk themselves out of sticky situations at school.

But, most of all, their uncanny ability to find—or cause—trouble.

Case in point:

Stiles had left them in the backyard while he did the dishes, convinced that nothing too terrible could happen to them while they were within hearing distance, and they’d been intent on sniffing out the cat in the long grass Derek hadn’t had the chance to cut. He didn’t even suspect anything was up when Cypress dashed upstairs and immediately came down again and went back outside. He figured she’d set a new record for world’s fastest pee and went back to scrubbing the bottom of a roasting pan.

When he finished up, he dried his hands and headed for the porch. He expected to see Chariot and Cypress exploring the perimeter of the yard, calling Kevin’s name. That was not what he saw.

They stood at the bottom of the stairs, Cypress holding a dripping, shut off hose, Chariot rubbing a ratty old towel over Eddie’s sodden, rumpled, bright pink fur.

“Girls,” Stiles said, sharply. “What is this?”

“We found this!” Cypress said, holding up an empty tub of fuchsia hair dye left over from an old Halloween costume of Teddy’s. (Dressing up as Tonks and Lupin’s son from Harry Potter had been a truly brilliant idea, if Stiles said so himself. And he did. Every year.)

“And what did you do with it?” He asked, calmly. He was fairly confident they couldn’t come up with a reason for him not to disapprove, but he still didn’t want to jump straight from zero to pissed without at least hearing their side of the story. 

“We used it up,” said Chariot, her smile a picture of innocence. 

“On the dog,” Stiles deadpanned. “And what made you think that was a good idea?”

“Doesn’t he look pretty, Daddy?” Cypress made a grand presenting gesture (as if the cat wasn’t already out of the bag) and jumped up and down in excitement. 

He had to admit, the dog did look pretty great. The dye had penetrated better in some areas than it had others, leaving his fur a sort of single colour tie-dye pattern that was really working for him. Regrettably, that didn’t get Stiles out of his Responsible Parent duties. 

“I’m disappointed in you,” he said, then winced at the cliche. If it worked, it worked, he supposed, and it seemed to have done its job. Both of the girls slumped and looked at the muddy ground. “I’m sure you knew, deep down, that this was a bad idea. Eddie is a dog. He can’t consent to having his fur dyed any colour. How would you like it if someone dyed your hair black while you were sleeping?”

Both of them gasped and put their wet hands to the crowns of their heads, just the thought of losing their golden locks making them upset. The girls weren’t vain, but they liked their hair, and took care of it. Their bedtime routine included Derek combing it out for them, because he had the gentlest hands to get out the tangles. 

Satisfied that that particular point had been made, Stiles moved on to his next one. “You know full well that Eddie has skin problems. What if he’s allergic to this stuff, and he gets hives for the next month and we have to put him on medication again? All because you wanted him to look pretty.” 

The girls gasped again, and ran forward, hugging Stiles’ waist and burying their shamed faces in his hips. He knelt down and pulled them in for a double hug. They weren’t crying, but he could see that their guilt and misery was genuine, so he didn’t deny them comfort. 

“Eddie is getting too old for your shenanigans,” he said, gently, when they calmed down a bit. “He loves you, but you have to pay him back for that love with trust. Can he trust you to take care of him and his itchy skin?”

“Yes,” they chorused, nodding enthusiastically. 

“Okay, then. To show him that, you’re going to need to do two things. Thing number one, you’re going to make sure he’s completely dry before he goes and has a nap in the house. Thing number two.” He knew this was the part they wouldn’t like. “Until that dye washes out, you’re on poop-scooping duty alone.” ( _Ha, ‘doodie’_ , he thought. They could give a man a child, but they couldn’t take the child out of the man.) The twins both protested, but he spoke over their whining. “You’ll take Teddy’s and Daddy’s turns, and I don’t want to hear any complaints. Alright?” 

“Alright,” they grumbled. 

Stiles supervised their thorough job of getting Eddie dry, making sure they paid special attention to his ears, so they didn’t get infected. (At 12 years old, Eddie was as healthy as he could be expected to be, but they didn’t take any chances.)

When they were done, he draped the towels over the porch railing to dry in the sun and jerked his chin in the direction of the porch door. “I think I saw Kevin slip past you a minute ago. You should go check in the living room.” 

The girls ran into the house in a flurry of noise guaranteed to make Kevin run for cover, and Stiles looked down at Eddie. 

“It’s too bad you’re colour blind. You really do look fabulous, buddy.” 

Eddie wagged his bubble-gum pink tail.


	6. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In time, all good things must come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is sad. It deals with the loss of an elderly family pet, and the process of grieving for that pet. I cried many tears writing it, and so did my betas. I won't be offended if anyone decides to skip this chapter, because I'm pretty sure you all can guess what's about to happen.

_He was tired. He wanted to get up and cross the room, stick his nose in the palm of every sad person there, but he couldn’t make his legs push him up or keep him steady. All he could do was wag his tail. They liked that. It made them happy, and their pleasure tickled his nose, so he wagged harder._ See? I’m alright. Just tired. So tired. __

_Boy rubbed his ears, and said all the good words. All the words that meant treats and snuggles and love. He loved Boy. Loved him so much, and he wished he could get up and lean into Boy to show him, to stop the salty-sad smell, but he couldn’t._

_Man was talking. More good words, and belly rubs. Wolf came closer, and let Girls stroke his head. It was lovely. He was happy, and surrounded by the smells of his pack, even in this place with cold-metal and fear-scent and sad-pain-worry of other dogs._

_Boy kissed his face, and started speaking louder, faster. He couldn’t pick out the words, but he could tell Boy was trying to calm him down. Why? He was fine. Just tired. He lifted his head, trying to give Boy a kiss, to reassure him, but he looked down and his legs were doing things he couldn’t feel. They were twitching and curling, and it worried him. He put his head down, because he didn’t want to worry. He didn’t want Boy or Man or Wolf or Girls to worry anymore. He was fine. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep would be good._

_Other Wolf was there, touching his leg gently. Had his legs stopped moving? He couldn’t remember. There was a tiny pain, like a fly biting him. Pesky flies. Almost as bad as fly swatters. Then Boy was there again, and everything was great. Boy loved him. They all loved him. He could sleep. He wouldn’t be tired any more._

**

Eddie had a habit they were never able to break for his entire life. Whenever he’d earned a special treat--something more substantial than a biscuit, like a pig’s ear or a bone full of marrow--he’d accept it gratefully, then proceed to walk around the house with it in his mouth, unable to sit and chew it longer than a few minutes. He was compelled to hide it, to save it for later. When they let him outside, he’d bury it somewhere in the large backyard, then dig up the last bone he’d buried and happily chew on a muddy, disgusting mess until his breath was rank and his tail wagged hard and fast. 

When they needed him to stay indoors with his treat, he’d find some place to stash it, like a pile of clothes, or the space between couch cushions, or once, memorably, underneath the cat. Every person in their family had found one at least once, had stuck their hand somewhere and came in contact with a cold, slimy, partially-chewed pig’s ear, an experience made infinitely grosser by the fact that it wasn’t immediately identifiable. It could take up to 10 seconds to realize what the hell they’d put their hand on, and in that time, the possibilities were endless and grotesque. 

The first time after Stiles found one after Eddie had passed away, at the bottom of a basket of old clothes, he sat down next to it and cried for a little bit. 

It’d been weeks since Eddie’d been gone, and Stiles had thought he was past that part of his grieving process, but something about remembering that annoying, endearing habit, and realizing it was probably the last time he’d get grossed out by the feel of Ed’s ragged pig skin leftovers made the wound fresh again. 

Eddie had been 16 years old when his body had given out on him, the same age as Teddy. For a dog as big as he’d been, that was a remarkably long life, especially considering all the money they’d spent at Scott’s practice on Eddie’s skin, ears, hips, and knees. 16 whole years. Good ones, too, with barely any slowing down or decline in his quality of life. 112 in dog years, as people liked to say. 

But all those years didn’t make the family he’d left behind any less heartbroken, or less lonely without the tapping of his claws in the hall when he searched for his next napping spot, or the warm puff of his breath on their knees as he waited for scraps under the table. 

Stiles took a few deep breaths and wiped his face. He got up from the floor and put the pig’s ear on the dresser, not quite ready to throw it in the garbage just yet. He needed to pull himself together. He had responsibilities, and kids to pick up from school that were just as sad as he was, but younger, more innocent. He could keep going through hell, because he’d had enough experience with loss that he knew how. 

**

Most of the time, Teddy was able to forget. He’d felt guilty about it for a while, until his dad--Derek--helped him understand that he shouldn’t be. His dad was an expert in grief, he’d told Teddy, so he was able to explain in a way that made sense to Teddy that no one deserving of their love would want their family to be depressed forever. If Eddie was there, he would have done all he could to cheer Teddy up. 

So he let himself laugh with his friends, enjoy lacrosse practice and read his new comic book without memories of Ed’s death weighing him down. He was perfectly fine, happy even. Until he saw someone walking a golden retriever on the drive home from school, and his heart leapt for one ecstatic second, then crashed down hard when he remembered. 

Walking in the front door and seeing only Kevin the Cat darting away, instead of a wriggly blond body barrelling toward him was always difficult, but it got simultaneously easier and harder with every passing day. Easier, because he remembered more quickly that Ed wasn’t expecting him home. Harder, because sometimes he remembered before he even put his hand on the door knob, and it made him want to avoid their sad, empty hallway for longer. 

Eventually, though, he kicked off his shoes and went up to his room, throwing off his melancholy by texting his friends and finishing the English homework he was secretly looking forward to. His dad would call him down for dinner, later, and he’d be caught up in the chaos of Taco Tuesday. (Never mind that it was definitely Friday.) 

**

Saturday mornings were usually a quiet time in the Stilinski-Hale household. Both his dads took the day off from their jobs, the twins’ judo lessons had been moved to Mondays with Teddy’s, and there was no homework he had that he couldn’t procrastinate. 

This particular morning, his dads claimed one of the long couches, and were each on their laptops. The twins were leaning over the coffee table, filling their sketch pads and listening to music through one set of headphones. This left Teddy the love seat, his favourite place to hang out on lazy days like this one. As he’d gotten taller, it had gotten harder to fit, but he was nothing if not persistent, and he always managed to wedge himself in to read his book. 

Teddy’s stomach started to rumble at 11. His dad--Derek--looked up, impressed by the latest lengthy symphony that only the two of them could hear. He was just about to get up and find something to snack on when his dad--Stiles--sat up on the couch and said, “Oh my god.” 

“What?” Teddy asked. 

“Is it a new Marvel trailer again?” Derek piped up, without looking away from his computer screen. “How many teasers can they release before they just show you the whole movie?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s…” He trailed off, and everyone turned to look at him. The expectant silence was broken by the printer starting to churn in the corner on its table. 

Teddy was closest, so he got up to fetch what Stiles had printed, neatly catching it before it slid out of the tray. He flipped it over and his heart gave another one of the weird shudders it did when he saw something that reminded him of his dog. 

This picture did more than remind him of Eddie. It _was_ Eddie. 

But at the same time...not. Teddy was holding a picture of a pale golden retriever, sitting still and calm on the porch of what looked like a nice house. If he hadn’t known Eddie’s face so well, he could believe that this was a photo of his beloved dog, one they hadn’t known about and saved in the Family Photo Cloud. But this dog’s face was just a tiny bit thinner, and its legs were a slightly darker shade than the rest of it, where Eddie had been platinum blond all over. 

“What’s this?” Teddy asked.

“That’s Buddy,” Stiles said, hurrying over to the printer and grabbing the copies of the photo that had printed after Teddy picked up this one, then handing them out to the rest of the family. “He’s perfect!”

“Perfect for what?” Teddy heard how odd his voice sounded, but he felt sort of numb, so he wasn’t sure if there was something to be done about it. He met Derek’s confused and wary eyes for a second before Stiles started speaking again, excitedly.

“I found him on Facebook. I wasn’t looking for him, but a friend from work has been sharing photos from this animal rescue she volunteers at. She shared this today, and I think we should get him.” 

“What?” Teddy felt like that was the only thing he’d said all day, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

“Look, there’s a description of him. ‘Buddy is friendly, patient and loves to cuddle.’ Doesn’t that sound just like Eddie?” 

Teddy’s heart clenched at his dad mentioning Ed while they were all looking at pictures of this other dog. “Dad, uh, I--”

“It says he likes cats,” Cypress said, softly, not quite at the level of enthusiasm as their dad, but not horrified either. “He’ll get along with Kevin.” 

Up to that moment, Teddy was ready to say no way, never, absolutely not to the idea. No dog could replace Eddie, and it was an insult to his memory to try. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to ever own another dog, but this wasn’t the way he wanted to do it, and he wouldn’t apologize for that. Then, he saw the tentative smiles on his sisters’ faces, and while it made him feel guilty, his resolve was still strong. 

“Exactly!” Stiles said. “They might even snuggle together like Ed used to.” 

“Dad--”

“Stiles--”

Stiles was too enthused to hear either his son or his husband. “We all miss Eddie. This dog could take his place. They look so similar, it just feels like fate. It’d be just like it was--”

“Dad, no!” The whole family turned to look at Teddy, surprised by his outburst. His skin heated up under the weight of their gaze and the burn--and the tight feeling in his chest--made his eyes prickle. “I…” His throat closed up, cutting off what he would have said if he was able to find the words. 

“What’s wrong, Ted? This dog is perfect for us--”

“No, it’s not.” Teddy felt like stamping his foot like a child. He hated fighting with his dad, but if he didn’t get it out now, like this, he wouldn’t be able to disappoint them later, when it was too late. “No offence to the dog, but it’s not Eddie. Nothing can ever be perfectly Eddie ever again, and you need to stop trying to force it to.” 

His parents and sisters were silent, staring at him in shock. He didn’t blame them. He’d made a reputation for himself as an easygoing guy, a teenager who never felt the need to sass his parents or make his sisters’ lives a living hell. This outburst over something that, by all rights, should have made him happy was probably throwing them off big time. 

Before they could recover, Teddy picked up his book and hurried up to his room. He could hear his parents calling after him, but he didn’t turn around. 

**

When Teddy was a kid, he never fought bedtime, his parents liked to tell him. He’d drag his feet getting into the bath or getting dressed up in fancy clothes, but he’d hop into his bed without a single complaint every night, no matter what he was doing or how low the sun was. 

What his parents didn’t mention whenever this fact came up, was that Teddy never just went to sleep when his parents finished his bedtime story and turned out the light. He’d pulled out his flashlight and read a few chapters under the covers until he couldn’t keep his eyes open, or the sun went down for real. Whichever came first. 

In retrospect, he thought his parents must have known this. Considering the amount of books and batteries he went through, they surely knew that he’d found more time to read than the space between getting home and getting started on homework. 

When he got older, and his dads didn’t read to him at night or tuck him in, and they stopped policing his bedtimes, he still pulled his covers over his head some nights, fogging up the screen of his Kindle or wearing down the corners of his favourite paperbacks against the covers. It was hot, humid and uncomfortable, but there was just something about the misguided feeling of subterfuge that hurt no one but his future self, who’d be tired in the morning. 

Teddy hadn’t done it in a while. Even though it was a comfort he could give himself, even though he’d needed comfort so badly in the last weeks, he hadn’t had the urge, because one of the best parts of reading under the covers was Eddie under them with him, lending his back as a place to prop a book and stinking up the enclosed space with his smelly breath and even smellier farts. 

Now, with the duvet clamped tightly over his head, and one of his favourite fantasy novels open to the best chapter (Out of order, because Teddy knew the plot inside and out) Teddy desperately sought that comfort, but he hadn’t found it. 

Downstairs, his family was probably mad at him for losing it, but he didn’t wish he could take it back. He was sorry he’d yelled, yes. But he didn’t--couldn’t--regret speaking his mind about the Eddie lookalike. That didn’t mean, though, that he was free from guilt. 

The soft knock on his door was not unexpected. Teddy closed the book and clicked off the flashlight, then threw off the blanket. The first few breaths of cool, clean air were always the best, so he took his time enjoying them before he got up and walked to the door. He answered it just as his dad--Derek--knocked again. 

“Hi,” Teddy said, dropping his eyes to the general area of his dad’s collar.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

Teddy nodded and opened the door wider, stepping away to let him through. Without saying anything, he pulled his computer chair over to the bed and sat down in it, leaving the bed for his dad. This was how they always had important talks. He’d found out about his sisters this way. (Though the chair had been a bean bag.) He’d gotten the sex talk. Most recently, they’d sat this way while he found out about Eddie’s failing health, and that it would be cruel to keep him any longer when he was so ill. 

The current mood felt somewhere in between that time and the time he’d been sat down and told that just because he was a werewolf didn’t mean that underage drinking was a good idea.

“Are you okay?” His dad asked as he sat down on the mattress. 

“Yeah. You?” He wasn’t sure why he was asking, beyond the fact that he didn’t know what else to say. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Your dad’s pretty upset, though.” 

A wave of guilt crashed over Teddy and he twisted his hands in his lap. 

“I’m sorry,” he started, but his dad cut him off.

“He wanted me to apologize to you for him.” 

Teddy blinked and unclasped his hands, latching onto the sturdy arms of the chair. “But I was the one who yelled.” 

“That’s true,” his dad said, consideringly. “And you’re well aware that yelling isn’t the answer to most of life’s problems.” Teddy nodded, but didn’t say anything. “But you know your dad. Sometimes, the only way to get through to him is by volume and repetition.” 

Teddy laughed, they both smiled, and his nervousness was gone. He knew he was lucky, in that he’d always been able to talk to his parents without feeling awkward, or worrying he’d get in trouble for speaking his mind, and he was glad they still had that. He’d never wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings. 

“Your dad never had any pets growing up, you know. Neither did I, actually. So we never had to lose a dog who’d grown up with us, like you have. We’ve both lost a lot of people, but never any pets. People are irreplaceable, obviously. Stiles only wanted to make you feel better by filling the hole Eddie left. He didn’t realize that was a terrible way to do it.” 

“I know he meant well,” Teddy said. “It’s just too soon. I’ll want another dog, some time. Just not quite yet. But I couldn’t get a clone of Eddie.”

“No dog could be just like Eddie,” his dad said, wryly. 

Teddy thought it was a good sign that they could laugh a little about their special dog. It gave him hope that all the memories he had wouldn’t always make him feel sad. Someday, they’d be good memories again. Even the ones of being woken up in the middle of the night because Eddie had eaten something he shouldn’t have. 

**

Stiles wasn’t the kind of person to sit and pine away for his significant other when work or other obligations separated them for an unusual amount of time. He didn’t sigh or stare out the window, or anything like that. 

He did, however, get incredibly bored. 

He had some TV shows DVR’d, but all the ones he was interested in watching were ones he’d promised to save for when he and Derek could watch them together. The house was pretty clean, and giving it a scrub down was never as much fun as when he got Derek to pull out an old tank top and scrub with him. Damp and a little bit dirtied up was still one of Derek’s best looks, even after all these years. 

He tried to read, but he kept trying to share a hilarious or insightful observation and realizing that the only other person in the livingroom to hear it was Teddy, who was busy with his own project. Making a customized photobook of their favourite pictures of Eddie apparently took lots of time and concentration. 

It’d been a few months since Stiles’ awful attempt to help his kids get over a sadness that couldn’t be made to speed itself up. Despite Stiles’ mistake, Teddy had worked through his grief in his own way, and had come up with the idea of the photobook by himself. It make Stiles so happy to see Teddy smiling as he flipped through pictures of their goofy gentle giant, instead of looking sad. 

Stiles opened up his book again, giving the true crime novel another try. He managed to finish a whole chapter before he looked at the clock again. He looked twice during the next chapter, but only because the plot got a little boring. Totally not his fault. 

Before he reached the end of the next chapter, he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. He tossed the book onto the coffee table, leapt up and immediately froze, because Teddy was looking at him, not even trying to hide his amusement at Stiles’ eagerness. 

Whatever. Derek was never gone on Tuesdays. He’d only been absent on this one because of a finicky client who couldn’t wait another few days for his table to be delivered two counties over. There was nothing wrong with Stiles’ happiness to welcome his husband home. 

Stiles didn’t have to pretend to play it cool in front of his son for very long, because Teddy frowned and tilted his head in confusion, then got up from his seat to open the door. 

“Dad?” He called. Stiles hurried over to look out the door with him, unsure what the note of suspicion in Teddy’s voice could mean. 

It was a crappy night out. It wasn’t that cold, but with the light drizzle of rain and the whipping wind, it felt more miserable than it was. In the yellow glow of the porch light, Stiles and Teddy watched Derek climb out of his car, hunched down into his jacket against the weather. When he reached the door, he wiped his feet thoroughly and closed it behind him, but didn’t take off his sodden coat. 

“Hey,” Stiles said. “Good trip?”

“Yeah, only a little bit of fog. Johnson was happy with the table, so I’m off the hook.” 

Derek sounded a little distracted, Stiles observed. He also had his arms crossed tightly in front of him, like his stomach hurt, but he didn’t sound like he was in pain. Teddy hadn’t torn his eyes away from Derek’s chest since he stepped out of the car.

“Dad, what--?” Teddy said, but as they watched, the front of the wet leather jacket started to shift and undulate, so Derek carefully pulled down the zipper to reveal a pair of dark brown eyes in a tiny, furry face. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Derek said to the yorkie. “I figured you didn’t want to get soaked.” 

“Oh my god,” said Stiles. 

“Oh my god!” Said Teddy. “She’s so cute!”

“Daddy!” Yelled the girls. 

Teddy smiled brightly at them as they raced down the stairs. “Dad got us a dog!” He announced, and they gasped in delight, crowding in to see it. 

“Her name’s Lenore,” Derek said. “She’s a little shy, so you have to be quiet and calm around her.” When the twins settled down a bit, Derek knelt and placed the dog on the hardwood floor. She immediately put her paws on his thighs, begging to be picked up again. When Derek only stroked her fuzzy head, she tried to hide behind him. At Derek’s motion, all of them sat down in the crowded space in front of the door. Now that they were all still and silent, and not quite so tall, she peeked her head out and started to explore. While she sniffed each of them and her claws clicked around as she got used to the space, Derek explained. 

“Johnson was going to get rid of her. His girlfriend’s moving in and she’s allergic to dogs. He told me that if he didn’t find someone who could take a five month old dog by Friday, he was going to drop her off at the humane society.” Lenore butted her head up against Derek’s knee and he dropped a hand to her tiny ears, rubbing the spiky black and tan fur. “She’s so sweet, but she’s timid. I sat with her on Johnson’s front step for half an hour before she was really comfortable around me. I just didn’t want her to go to the pound and get overlooked because she isn’t friendly right away. I’m sorry if it’s too soon--” 

“No,” Teddy said. He held out his hand and Lenore approached it cautiously. When nothing terrible or frightening happened, she gave his fingers a tiny lick, then relaxed as Ted scratched under her chin. “It’s just soon enough.” 

Lenore really couldn’t have been more different from Eddie. For one thing, she was tiny. Even at fully grown, she’d never take up the whole bed with her body, become an immovable object when she was tired and didn’t want to give up her seat on the couch. She’d always be the perfect size to hold to their chests for a hug. 

Her personality, too, was nowhere near the same. She was slow to trust, but when she did she was affectionate to the point of clinginess. She wanted to be held and loved and paid attention to constantly. She was also excitable, full of energy. Not patient and calm, like Eddie had been most of the time. 

Over the next few hours, day and weeks, the Stilinski-Hale family would find out just how different she was from their first pet. They would also find out she would fill the space in their lives where Eddie had once lived, and the space in their hearts where Eddie still stayed, forever just as well-loved as he’d always been. Forever a good dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know why I wrote this. It was especially hard for me, because Eddie is very heavily modelled after my own dog, who isn't very healthy at all, and probably won't live to be 16 years old. But I guess I've been writing this series for so long that I felt the need to show the good times and the very, very bad times. So, sorry, but also not.


	7. Another Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teddy: 18  
> Twins: 13

Sunday evenings were Derek’s favourite. Teddy liked to do his homework at the kitchen table while Derek baked muffins, granola and banana bread for quick snacks in the following week. Stiles or the girls would often claim the other end of the long table, or a floury corner of the counter, but no matter who joined them, it was Teddy and Derek on Sunday evenings. 

More than one batch of muffins had been ruined in the past because Derek was distracted from the recipe by helping Teddy talk through a problem for a class, but he didn’t mind starting over. He liked interacting with his son more than he liked the perfect ratio of chocolate chips. 

Teddy was like Derek in so many ways. He chose his words with care, using them to their maximum potential by using the minimum, instead of hemorrhaging sentences until the meaning became clear from the shape of the mess. (Not that there was anything wrong with that. It just wasn’t their way of doing things.) He was sensitive, and felt hurt deeply, a trait Derek had taken a long time to acknowledge came from him. He was also stubborn. Unlike Derek, he never failed to dish out love or positive feedback to those who hurt him, instead of lashing out or closing down to hide his feelings. 

There were lots of ways he was like Stiles, too, but just as many facets of himself that were unique. 

He’d always liked his hair long, and they’d never discouraged him, only told him he needed to keep it neat with regular maintenance, just like he would if it was short. They didn’t want him to look like a ragamuffin, so he used the detangler spray and conditioner just as much as his sisters. 

He was friends with as many girls as he was boys. Between that, his high GPA and the long hair, he would have been prime pickings for bullies if he hadn’t been so unflinchingly nice to everyone he’d ever met. That was, until he saw someone being mean. He’d try to take the high road and educate the person bothering him, but if that didn’t work, he didn’t hold back.

It helped that he’d been a star player on the lacrosse team. Also, after over a decade of weekly Judo classes, he could incapacitate anyone looking to give him a hard time in a couple seconds flat, with no need broken bones. He was Kira’s best student. The girls didn’t have the patience for memorizing areas for quick takedowns, but Teddy learned how to disable anyone with only a few touches. It made trips to the principal’s office very easy. ( _“Look, sir, you can see he only put two fingers on him! You can hardly call that fighting.”_ )

Derek still remembered the day Teddy cried on the couch when he asked Stiles (and Derek, but he was more of an afterthought) if he could drop lacrosse and join the Judo Club instead. He’d thought his dad would be mad at him, or sad that he didn’t enjoy it as much as he’d hoped.

Stiles had no problem with it and was just sorry Teddy would think that. He told Teddy to do what made him happy, as long as he promised to get out his lacrosse stick on the weekend sometimes to help keep Stiles in shape. Teddy was relieved and agreed right away. He’d always enjoyed that more than the actual games. Being on the team with his friends was fun, but they’d still be his friends when he pursued something he had more passion for.

It was hard to believe that in just a couple of months, these Sundays would start to phase out of their routine. 

Teddy was so close to graduating high school they could all taste it. After that, he’d have a couple months of relaxation, then he was off to UC Davis where he’d be staying in the dorms. The campus was only about two hours away, so there was bound to be lots of weekend visits, but it meant that Sunday nights would be eaten up by travel time, not muffins and English worksheets. 

Losing Teddy to college also meant that Beacon Hills High School would be gaining two new Stilinski-Hales. The twins were among the youngest in their class, since they’d been born so close to the end of the year, but they were ready, and just as excited for high school as Teddy was for life on campus. 

The twins were sort of the opposite of Teddy in that they had everything going for them, with their effortless prettiness and dry wit, and could very easily be popular, but they chose to keep to themselves. Derek worried about it sometimes, concerned that they’d raised them to be too dependant on each other. But he took comfort in the fact that they weren’t completely socially isolated, since they got along great with the other children in the pack, and loved to hang out with all of Sonya’s kids, despite the varied ages. 

“Hey, Dad?” 

“Yeah?” Derek put the last batch of muffins in, then took off his oven mitts as he turned to face Teddy at the table.

“Could you read this last paragraph? I’ve been working on it so long, I’m not sure it makes sense anymore.”

“Sure.” Derek came around the kitchen counter and sat next to Ted, shifting the laptop toward himself. The concluding paragraph was flawless, as usual. Teddy was in his element, turning Tudor politics into a modern soap opera for AP History. 

“It’s great,” Derek, sitting back from the laptop. 

“You don’t think the opening is too cliche?”

“Not at all.” 

They went back and forth a few times, Derek assuring Ted that it was perfect, Teddy looking for things to nitpick. Eventually, there was nothing more they could discuss, and Teddy saved his work before shutting the lid on his laptop and lifting his arms in a spine-cracking stretch. 

“You want one of these muffins? They’re still warm.” Derek asked, standing and grabbing two without waiting for an answer. 

“Sure. And thanks for helping.” 

“Helping with what?” Derek said as he smothered a couple with butter. “You were finished an hour ago. And Stiles already proofread it, I can tell. Don’t know what you needed me for.” 

Teddy blushed, caught in a harmless untruth, but grinning shamelessly. “How’d you know I already sent it to Dad?” 

“All your apostrophes were correct. You always miss one per paragraph, every time, so your dad must have corrected it.” Also, the first sentence was something Derek had read in Stiles’ essays countless times when he’d been in college, but he didn’t mention that part. 

“Wow. The power of deduction. I’m impressed.” 

Derek carried their two plates back to the table and they dug into the oozy, chocolatey muffins. “So, why was my opinion so important, huh?” He couldn’t resist asking. 

“Your opinion’s always important to me. I just don’t want you to forget that. Even when I’m at college, and we’ll have to brainstorm over skype.” 

Derek sighed happily and gripped Teddy’s shoulder. How had he and Stiles managed to raise such an emotionally intelligent son? It baffled him every day. 

“Thanks,” he said, past the tightness of gratitude. “You’ve got chocolate on your face, college boy.” 

Teddy grinned and wiped it off, and Derek saw flashes of the little kid he’d been, his face smeared with icing as he helped bake his fourth, fifth and sixth birthday cakes. After that, the icing had changed to vanilla, but it had still gotten everywhere. 

They were great memories. Remembering them, he felt a tiny pang as he realized he’d already said goodbye to previous versions of Teddy. The Teddy who’d barely spoken. The Teddy who’d needed tucking in every night. The Teddy who’d locked himself in the boys bathroom because he’d been so nervous about talking to a pretty girl who had a crush on him. 

This Teddy, high schooler Teddy, who did his homework at the kitchen table and got chocolate on his chin was about to say goodbye. But college Teddy, who would discover himself and other people and eventually blossom into adult Teddy through trial and error, would be just as much fun to get to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left such wonderful comments on the last chapter. It really means a lot of me that you liked it, since I struggled with whether or not I should post it at all. Again, thanks. 
> 
> This instalment is the last that I've written so far, and I don't have any immediate plans on more. That's not to say that I won't get inspired again and write a little ficlet in this verse from time to time! But these were the main stories I wanted to tell. So I hope you enjoyed it, and enjoyed the series. :)


	8. Getting older

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They look like their parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! I drabbled! This rarely happens to me. Usually, when I get an idea for a fic it's a 50k overwhelming monster that never sees the light of day because I'm too busy working on 5 others. 
> 
> This one is a little different, and only barely fits into the universe, but I wanted to put it somewhere. Definitely can be read as a stand alone. It was inspired by lyric in a Joni Mitchell song: "We look like our mothers did, now, when we were those kids' age."
> 
> In this chapter, Derek and Stiles are in the neighbourhood of 50 years old.

Derek stopped with the electric razor an inch from his face. He turned it off, put it back down on its stand and the absence of buzzing made the dripping faucet loud as a gunshot. He really needed to fix that. Not this morning, though. This morning, he needed to shave, and he was going to, in just a minute. 

He reached up and scratched his cheek, feeling the bristly hairs and hearing the rough, soothing scraping noise. Stiles liked to scritch his fingernails in Derek's beard, especially when it was on the long side, like it was now. Every time Derek got rid of it, he'd spend a few hours being disappointed whenever he reached up to scratch and the scruff was gone. But inevitably, he'd remember that he liked the feeling of Derek's newly shaven face in the crook of his neck, and he'd forget to be disappointed. 

Derek looked down at the fancy electric razor with too many buttons and features he'd never use (A gift from one of the pack. He couldn't remember who.) and for the first time in a very long time, he considered simply not shaving. Letting his controlled stubble grow into a proper beard. Because, like this, a little longer than he normally wore it, with a few grey hairs starting to creep in, he almost looked like a different person. 

He looked like his father. 

His dad had had a big, full, dark beard for all of Derek's childhood. There had apparently been one time time that he'd shaved it off on a bet, but that was before Derek could remember, so his dad's beard might as well have been part of his face, permanent. 

Both he and Derek's mom hadn't been on the older side when they'd started having kids, but they hadn't been young either, so by the time they had Derek, the third child, with two years between each one, his dad was in his late thirties. 16 years later, when he'd died, he'd just passed his 53rd birthday, and had made jokes about being over the hill. Derek had rolled his eyes and gone back to his book. 

Werewolves aged well. Their bodies bounced back from the health problems associated with aging, and their senses were so fine-tuned already, they didn't need hearing aids or reading glasses. Their skin stayed smooth and unblemished by age spots well into their 80s, and they tended to live extraordinarily long lives, when they weren't cut down before their time. 

Derek's dad had smiled so much and spent so much time out in the sun, laughing and looking over the land his family grew up on that he'd had deep crow's feet by the time he was 45. He'd started finding grey hairs around 50, and instead of having a crisis, he'd pointed them out unashamedly, and blamed his five children repeatedly and proudly. 

Derek looked in the mirror and he saw his father in himself, like a sketch drawn on the glass, smoothing out the sharpness of his nose and the jut of his ears until he was the image of how his dad had looked the last day Derek saw him alive. 

He'd always looked more like his dad. His sisters, and his older brother, with their long, dark hair, and long, angular faces, had resembled their mother, everyone said so. He was the only one who his dad didn't have to point out in the crowd when people asked if he had kids. Strangers could see the resemblance clearly. 

Derek wiped his mouth, clearing imaginary toothpaste he'd already washed away, and felt the brush of his beard another time. He leaned on the basin of the sink and tore his eyes away from the mirror with some effort.

He wasn't his father. The face he saw in the mirror was creased just like his dad's and his hair was silvering in all the same places, but his eyes were still set too far apart and his ears stuck out too much to be an exact likeness. And it didn't matter much anyway; Even if he'd been a clone of Robert Hale, he still didn't have his husky, off-key singing voice, or his twinkling eyes. There wasn't much Derek had left of him, but looking into the mirror until he wasted away wouldn't bring him back, no matter how much Derek missed him, and wished he could have met his grandchildren. 

"Derek, could you bring my pills when you come in?" 

Leaving his razor for tomorrow, Derek grabbed Stiles' orange bottle of heart medication from the shelves behind the mirror and barely glanced in it as he left it behind. Stiles was sitting up on his side of the bed, his hands resting on his thighs. He was gripping the left one a little harder, subtly massaging away an ache.

"Bad day?" Derek asked.

Stiles grimaced, but it morphed into a tough grin. "Mid-week slump. It's fine."

Stiles' body was always "fine" these days. Never great, and almost never completely pain-free, but Stiles rarely let anyone know when he was having a bad pain day. He was frustrated enough with how his body was letting him down, he didn't need anyone else getting tired of him complaining. As if Derek would ever mind, or feel anything other than guilt and remorse for ruining Stiles' chances of having healthy joints at 50. 

The injuries Stiles had bounced back from so gamely in his youth were catching up to him now. The broken elbow when he was 18, the dislocated hip when he was 20. Various lumps and bumps through those hard years before the pack was settled. All of them were coming back to haunt him by giving him arthritis and muscle spasms. On top of that, decades of harassing his father to eat healthy, but not following his own advice had taken a toll on his heart. They had it under control now, but Stiles would be on medication until he died, for pain, inflammation and cardiac health.

"Have you been doing your exercises?" Derek said gently, resisting the urge to go to him and take his pain, and fuss until Stiles was comfortable, because it only ever served to frustrate them both. Stiles was a terrible patient, and stubborn as a mule. 

"Sure." Derek raised his eyebrows at the less than convincing answer. Stiles winced. "Kinda." 

Derek sighed. This was a conversation they had about once every two weeks, but he still felt like he had to do his part. "You should do them. You'll feel better."

"Yeah, yeah." Derek didn't even have to say anything this time, he simply looked at Stiles with that look he knew had been effective on his kids and Stiles relented, slumping a little and digging his knuckles back harder into his thigh. "I know. It's hard to fit them in sometimes." 

Derek crossed the room and sat next to Stiles, one hand on Stiles' thigh, but not to drain his pain. Stiles was still learning to ask for it when he needed it, and Derek didn't want to hinder his progress by helping without permission. It was difficult for him to see his mate ache constantly and not do anything, but they were both on a steep learning curve, and they both could manage.

"I get it. Do them anyway, or Teddy will make you go back to that woman, and you'll come back pretzel-shaped."

Stiles shuddered theatrically, making the bed bounce a little. "Okay, fine." Stiles' lips tilted in a sly grin. "You can help me tonight."

Derek looked forward to it. The stretches hurt while Stiles was doing them, but after he was finished, he found himself warmed up and limber enough for things he wouldn't normally be in the mood for on a bad pain day. 

Stiles' eyes sparkled with mirth, and he grinned up at Derek with the smirk that had captured Derek's stony heart years ago. There were are few differences, of course. Stiles had glasses now, that he always forgot to take off when he was finished reading. His cheeks weren't as hollow as they had been when Stiles was in his twenties and thin from a lightning fast metabolism. 

His eyes were different too, but not the colour, or the brightness. The pale skin around them was wrinkled, just like Derek's, and for a split second, Derek could see the Sheriff in those eyes, despite the definite brown instead of icy blue. 

He leaned down and kissed him, suddenly incandescently happy when a few moments ago, he'd given in to sorrow. He was a lucky guy, really, to have found someone like Stiles and to be alive to see him get older and wiser, and to get older and wiser himself. 

They were looking more like their fathers every day, and Derek couldn't find it in himself to mind.


End file.
